


The Eve of Something

by bumblegwen



Category: Downton Abbey
Genre: A little identity crisis, Angst, Canon Gay Character, Dancing, First Kiss, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Gay Male Character, Homosexuality, Internalized Homophobia, Love Confessions, M/M, Period-Typical Homophobia, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-08
Updated: 2020-06-08
Packaged: 2021-03-04 07:28:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,244
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24609946
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bumblegwen/pseuds/bumblegwen
Summary: Jimmy Kent is an impulsive creature.This is what happens when Jimmy invites himself to go out dancing with Thomas and his world is irrecoverably shifted.
Relationships: Thomas Barrow/Jimmy Kent
Comments: 20
Kudos: 150





	The Eve of Something

**Author's Note:**

> This was inspired by the scenes from the Downton film of Thomas and Chris Webster dancing. It was just too beautiful for me to leave behind.
> 
> CW for homophobic and religious language, and some swearing. The views I've portrayed here do not reflect my own!

This, Jimmy Kent thought to himself, was the most irresponsible thing he had ever done, and it had started with a conversation as they had been setting the dining table upstairs for dinner.

'You deserve to have fun, Mr Barrow, as much as any of us, an' - '

'But that doesn't mean you have to come with me!' Thomas had said almost frantically in contrast to his exact measuring of plates to the edge of the table, 'I'll be alright on me own, I shouldn't have told you.'

'Oh, shut up. I'm not letting my best mate go out for a good time on his sad little ownsome. Anyway, can't be that bad, can it?' he’d teased back, darting away before Thomas could respond by whipping him with the measuring stick or an equally painful insult.

Except it was that bad.

Jimmy had followed Thomas through York and up to a tall warehouse door that night. Thomas knocked four times, muttered a few words to the man who'd opened it and they went in.

It was just that Thomas had been so excited and the cold, collected man never got excited like this. As he'd murmured about this secret club for men of his sort, his grey eyes brightened like the moon, a mischievous grin sneaking onto his face. He was like a different person until Alfred butted in and asked if they wanted to play cards.

  
Now they were here, Jimmy wasn't so sure he should have insisted on accompanying him. Walking through low lit darkness, he'd glimpsed adult men in lipstick, men sitting in men's laps, burly, tall blokes snogging other men against the walls. Behind tendrils of smoke and laughter, love travelled, but it wasn’t the good, decent holy kind that he knew of.

  
Jimmy shuddered. He and Thomas were sat at the edge of the room on a long wooden bench watching dancers swirl around to clumsy jazz. He cocked his head and narrowed his eyes. How could they all be so joyful when what they were doing was illegal and blatantly dangerous? How could they face themselves the next day? Did they worry they could be caught at any moment, like he was?

Yet, Thomas's eyes had widened and drank in every sight in this makeshift dance hall. He'd beamed at Jimmy, brimming with pale light and disbelieving laughter as they removed their coats. Jimmy had stared too, caught in some vague space between fear and pure confusion. They'd been here for nearly half an hour now and he couldn't stop himself glancing at the doors, expecting the police to kick them in.

He looked over at Thomas. The man leaned forward, hands on his knees, as though he were being pulled towards the dancing. Shaking his head, Thomas rested back against the bench and leaned towards him.

'Can't believe this is real.' he said over the music.

'You an' me both.'

Thomas snorted, 'You're the one who insisted on comin’.'

'An' here I am.'

Jimmy crossed his arms but winked at Thomas. Thomas rolled his eyes and nudged his shoulder, before going back to watching the happy chaos. Jimmy let his gaze wander a bit until he spotted something odd. A tall, skinny man with yellow hair and a striking green suit smiled at him from the other side of the room. Jimmy frowned. The tall man smirked and raised his chin, beckoning him over with a curled finger. Gulping, Jimmy's eyebrows shot up and he turned to Thomas.

'Did you see that?'

'See what?'

'There's a bloke starin' at me!'

'So?'

'I'm not like that, Thomas!'

Finally, Thomas turned to him and raised an eyebrow, 'Well, you know where you are, don't you?'

Jimmy squirmed, 'I don't care, I don't want some leery man-'

Sighing, Thomas shifted his body to face him, all childish joy gone from his face. Jimmy's breath caught in his throat. He looked worried. Jimmy swore internally.

'Reality is, you're a good-lookin’ man,' Thomas said, 'no one here knows you're not... Our sort. We don't have to stay long.'

Jimmy could feel a headache lurking. He squeezed his fists and sucked in a breath. Stop being a prat, he told himself. Tonight wasn't about him.

'No, we're stayin’.' he replied firmly, 'Just ignore me. This is your night.'

'I'm grateful you're here, but if you wanna go-'

'I said we're stayin’!' he snapped.

Silence fell. Thomas looked away again, except this time Jimmy noticed his knuckles turning white as he gripped the edge of the bench. Sighing, he stared at the floor. His gaze followed the lines of the planks of wood out to the scuffed shoes twisting and spinning ahead of them. The room had taken on a hazy quality, as if a golden fog slithered over their heads. Jimmy ran a hand through his hair, letting it come apart under his touch as sweat permeated his body.

'Go dance, eh?' he said.

Thomas frowned at him, releasing his tight hold on the bench.

'Jimmy, I don't need to, you've done enough- this is enough-'

'Not with me!'

Jimmy laughed mechanically. Of course, not with him, he wasn't gonna bloody dance with that sort even if it was Thomas, nor any other pansy in lipstick or otherwise. He slapped Thomas's shoulder and gestured to the room.

'You've got a whole room of your sort and you're sittin' here with the only straight bloke in the building! What's that about?'

Thomas smirked. He leaned forward on his elbows and dragged his hands down his face. Thomas shook his head and looked up at him. Jimmy smiled at the grey eyes peeking through his fallen hair. A shyer grin pushed the corners of Thomas's mouth.

'You don't mind if I do?'

Jimmy pushed his shoulder and lightly kicked his ankle.

'Bugger off- not literally mind.'

At least Thomas was laughing when he walked away. At least he'd achieved that.

Thomas was a graceful walker. In fact, Thomas was unnervingly graceful in almost everything he did, until he was relaxed. Then you really saw his stupid side, the side that made childish jokes or that would kick him under the table when they were eating in an attempt to get him in small doses of trouble. Jimmy smirked. On the other side of the dancing, Thomas went up to a man standing near the one who'd been eyeing Jimmy. They talked for a minute, the stranger nodded with a dozy smile, and Thomas took the man's hand. Jimmy gulped, but he couldn't take his eyes off the joining of palms. Pansies were meant to be delicate things. That's what Jimmy and the boys at a school laughed about when they picked in each other. Then again, children were evil shits. Jimmy scrunched his nose at the memories and continued watching.

Thomas took the stranger into his arms. They spun and swayed with Thomas leading, his chin raised aristocratically, light illuminating his head and shoulders like a cloak. Jimmy followed every move, unable to look away. It was fascinating seeing it in real life. Truly fascinating.

'Now your man's gone, how about we chat?'

Jimmy started and whipped around to his right. The yellow-haired man grinned down at him and his arm draped dangerously near Jimmy's shoulders. Jimmy licked his lips, gaze darting between the man and Thomas, who was too caught up to notice him.

'That's- that's not my... He's not...' Jimmy said desperately.

The man tilted his head, still smiling. If Jimmy was truthful, the man wasn't leering at all. The brown eyes surveying him seemed kind, his thin face wasn't creepy, just slim against his bones.

'Don’t be so nervous. What's your name?' the man asked.

'Uh...'

'Forgotten it?' the man chuckled, 'Or desperate to get away?'

Well, he wasn't wrong. Jimmy fidgeted.

'Jimmy.' he blurted out, noticing the man's body inching closer.

'Alright then, Jimmy, would you like to dance with me?'

Jimmy wanted to run. It was also obvious that the other man could see this in his face and was starting to look concerned. He didn't know what was worse.  
'I'm fine here, actually,' he said, nodding to Thomas, 'I'm with my friend.'

'Oh, come on, you really-'

'No.'

The man frowned, 'He isn't your man, but he is your friend and you don't dance. What on earth are you doing here, then?'

Jimmy did not have an answer that made him sound sane. There wasn't even booze in this place, so he certainly wasn't here for the drink. He shifted uncomfortably, staring at his shoes.

'You aren't...' the man said slowly, 'You aren't like all of us... Are you?'

Jimmy smiled weakly, 'That obvious, eh?'

'Are you going to snitch?'

Finally, Jimmy met his gaze and saw barely concealed fear. The man now had his hands in his lap, poised like a deer about to dart from the deadly end of a rifle. Jimmy recognised it as the same fear he'd had when Thomas had kissed him that night, which then morphed into anger and a blazing terror he couldn't control. He swallowed thickly and shook his head.

'No.'

The man sighed in relief and laughed, 'Now I’m the nervous one, Jimmy, thank you for that.'

'Sorry.' he replied sheepishly.

'And my name's Paul, by the way.' the man drawled, causing Jimmy to look up at him again, 'because you weren't going to ask like a polite member of society.'  
'Right. Sorry.'

Paul smirked and danced his fingers nearer to Jimmy's shoulder. A tinny, distant voice in Jimmy's head squeaked at him to jump up and hit the cheeky bastard. He ignored the voice and settled for praying the night would go quickly. Biting the soft flesh in his mouth, he clasped his hands together and stared at his shoes.

'Are you quite sure you won't have a dance?'

Jimmy shook his head.

'You're here though, so you might as well, surely?'

Anger boiled under his skin. He clenched his fists.

'Jimmy!'

He jumped away from Paul and whipped around. A slightly breathless Thomas stood over them, cheeks flushed, mouth parted. His gaze flashed between Paul and Jimmy.

'Ah, so this is the friend, then.' Paul said before standing, 'It was interesting to talk to you, Jimmy.'

Jimmy blinked hard and stared after him as he sauntered off into the crowd. The sound of blood thumped in his ears. Thomas sat down beside him, his eyes never leaving him. When Jimmy made himself meet his gaze, a new wave of panic stuttered inside him at the widened eyes.

'Nothin' happened!' he said, suddenly feeling how hot the room was, 'I swear, he just-'

'Calm down.'

As if Thomas had flicked a switch, Jimmy could breathe again. He wiped the back of his hand across his top lip and stared at the knots in the wood of the bench, silently willing his heart to slow it’s pace. Nevertheless, a blush swarmed up his neck.

'Did that bloke do something to you?' Thomas asked quietly.

Jimmy looked up and frowned.

'No.'

'Do you promise, Jimmy?'

At this, he had to smile. Thomas's eyes crinkled as they narrowed, turning the deep greys into crescent moons. He near enough for Jimmy to feel safe and far enough so no one else would get the wrong idea. His normally immaculate hair dripped like ink over his forehead, the pomade fading. Sweat coated his nose. Jimmy's smile widened still.

'I'm fine. He didn't do nothin'. We were talkin', that's all.'

Thomas's visibly relaxed. He gave a sharp nod, crossed his arms over his chest and pressed his back into the bench.

'What you doin' now?' Jimmy said.

Thomas raised an eyebrow, 'If I'm here, you won't get bothered.'

'But- but- no, you came here to have fun!' he sputtered.

Thomas merely shrugged.

Jimmy rolled his eyes and dug the toe of his shoe into the floor, scowling. Around them, the clatter of footsteps filled his ears and faded golden light filled the room. His fingers tapped on his arm to the beat of the band playing. He grinned to himself. It was tempting to get up like everyone else and move along to the drums and howling saxophone coming from the corner of the room. He glanced up and saw a man playing the piano. Jimmy tilted his head. The pianist was drenched in sweat and beaming wildly. Jimmy's gaze travelled around the room. Everyone was having fun. Everyone, apart himself and Thomas.

Jimmy pushed himself to his feet and spun around to face his friend. One hand in his trouser pocket and the other held out to Thomas, he inclined his chin to the man, amused at the bewilderment he encountered. Thomas started to speak, but Jimmy cut him off and beckoned.

'How's about it, Mr Barrow?'

Thomas glared.

'Are you mad?'

'Come off it,' he sighed, 'the best way to stop all these twats coming up to me is if I'm dancing with you, innit?'

Slowly, Thomas stood and stepped towards Jimmy. Jimmy dropped his hand as they faced each other, just a foot apart. Thomas frowned, though Jimmy couldn't decide if it was a look of concern, amazement, or cautious hope. His grey eyes didn't waver. Jimmy swallowed thickly and held out his hand again. Thomas ran his tongue over his bottom lip. He reached out and grasped Jimmy's hand. For a moment, all Jimmy could do was stare as Thomas twisted his wrist so that their fingers wove together. He looked up and found Thomas grinning from ear to ear.

'Come on then.' the man said gently.

Jimmy pulled them into the throes of activity.

It was one thing to dance with a girl or a married lady, there had been many, and quite another to dance with your best friend who was also clearly a man. Jimmy faltered as they stood opposite each other.

'Uh... What now?'

Thomas laughed, 'You mean who leads?'

'Me, obviously.' Jimmy scoffed.

He snatched Thomas's hand and grabbed him around the waist. His stomach flipped as he looked down again at their shoes, now centimetres apart.

'Alright then.' Thomas said dryly.

If Jimmy spoke, he knew he'd say something stupid and along the lines of telling Thomas to piss off. He took in a shaking breath and began to move. His ribs squeezed his lungs, but he forced on a smile. His hand hovered like a feather over Thomas's waist. What if the police came? Would he still be able to justify coming here with Thomas like an idiot in a cell? Jimmy gulped and gritted his teeth. He'd leave berating himself for getting into this barmy situation later. He looked to Thomas again.

The man looked as relaxed as a starched shirt. Holding his hand was like holding a stone. His mouth strained as if the muscles around it were tied taught and his gaze flitted around the room without rest. Jimmy tightened his grip on Thomas's hand, causing him to meet his eyes. Jimmy bit his lip and let his gaze wander for a moment before returning to Thomas.

'Look, Thomas... I know I'm probably not who you wanna be dancin' with,' he began seriously as young couples spun around them, 'I know I'm not the same as spending the night with someone like you, but you don't have to pretend around me.' he smiled, 'Be yourself Thomas.'

'But-'

'Please. Just be yourself.' Jimmy interrupted softly, giving Thomas's hand a squeeze.

It wasn't until then that Thomas finally let his hand rest on Jimmy's shoulder. He hadn't even realised the hand wasn't there until warm skin made contact with the fabric of his shirt. The pressure, certain and impossible to ignore, sent goosebumps scurrying up his spine. They moved in unison, step by step, as the music whirled like a carnival. Jimmy flexed his fingers around Thomas's waist. They moved a little faster.

Thomas beamed and Jimmy knew he'd done the right thing. The man's eyes creased into embarrassed, joyful laughter and Jimmy lead them into quicker steps. Thomas shook his head and followed with ease.

'So,' Jimmy asked lightly, 'what d'you reckon Carson would say if he could see us now?'

Thomas's hair was completely loose from the pomade. It fell in pieces just shy of his eyes, eyes that smiled with lines spreading from them like tiny paintbrush strokes. Jimmy's gaze travelled down to his mouth, also smiling and pushing creases into his cheeks. He'd never seen Thomas maintain a happy expression for more than a few minutes at a time.

'I don't want to think about Carson now.' Thomas replied.

Jimmy shrugged, 'Fair enough, s'long as we both agree he's a grumpy bastard.'

'Too bloody right.' Thomas chuckled.

'He'd probably faint or- or set on fire, or-'

Jimmy was cut off by the sound of Thomas cracking up with laughter. He tilted his head and stared, bemused. Thomas screwed up his eyes and tilted his head back as his body shook with a laugh that caused people to glance at them. Jimmy met their gazes nervously. He hadn't thought he'd said anything that funny. With a couple of deep breaths, Thomas regained control, though only just. From then on, a starry twinkle remained in his eyes, the laughter never quite fading.

'Blimey,' Jimmy mused, 'should I change careers, become a comedian?'

Thomas rolled his eyes and spun them around. This didn't stop Jimmy noticing Thomas's cheeks flood pink, and not because of the temperature. Smirking, Jimmy brought the man closer and took them on his own spin. All the while, Thomas's eyes didn't leave him for a moment and the boyish grin didn't waver. Pride surged in Jimmy's chest.  
Soon, the music twittered into a faster, wilder pace. Jimmy, still baffled at dancing with a man, who was his best friend, who was taller than himself, who smelt of sweat and old books and mint, kept in time with every quick step. Yet somehow the insanity wasn't so terrible, now he'd gotten used to it. A few songs later, both he and Thomas were almost out of breath. Thomas smiled slyly and squeezed his shoulder.

'Not too bad, for a footman.' he teased, leaning into Jimmy's ear.

'Oi, that's first footman, Mr Barrow.' Jimmy shot back.

'Whatever you say.'

Jimmy raised an eyebrow in mock offense, 'What are you implying, then?'

'That you aren't too bad,' Thomas said far too nonchalantly, glancing down at their feet before setting his mouth into a wily grin as they met eyes, 'but I reckon I'm better.'  
'No, you bloody aren't.'

Thomas shook his head again. The music changed again, slowing and falling. The drums faded, the saxophone sounded as though it were being played in the moonlight, and the piano tinkered on the lowest notes. Jimmy looked around and saw bodies drawing closer together. One man dancing near them had his cheek resting on his partner's shoulder. He gulped.

'I think I can prove you wrong.' Thomas said, snapping Jimmy out of the haze.

'Go on then.'

They swapped hands and positions. Jimmy shivered as Thomas placed his warm hand on his waist, unable to look away as the man appraised him. He couldn't work it out. Thomas's hooded gaze seemed halfway between a mystery and a taunting challenge. Then there was the slight upward turn of his mouth and the crinkles around his eyes that softened his whole face. Jimmy bit the inside of his mouth as Thomas took over... Well, everything.

All he could feel was the rough material of Thomas's glove and his smooth fingers curled around his hand, and the other pressed confidentially into his waist. All he could see was the soft smile on Thomas's face under the glow of the lights above them. The music blurred into obscurity. Jimmy's eyelids grew heavy. He felt his lips part and Thomas's luminous gaze falling to them. Thomas's fingers tightened around his. Thomas bowed his head.

And then, Thomas stumbled.

As if waking from a dream, Jimmy blinked slowly and took a moment to realise what was happening. His body was holding Thomas up and the man was laughing into his neck. The hand that had been on his waist was now pressing into his back, Thomas's arm wrapped around his shoulders, gripping his shirt as he'd gripped his hand before. Jimmy shook his head, unable to hold in his own laughter anymore and patted Thomas on the back.

'I'm sorry, I'm sorry-' Thomas stammered, his lips hot against Jimmy's skin.

'You plum...' Jimmy shot back gently, still holding his hand despite the chaos.

Thomas straightened up, looking down at him with a bright, red cheeked grin. Jimmy pressed his mouth into a flat line. They stared at each other. Jimmy swallowed thickly. Then, the image of Thomas almost falling on his face crossed his mind again and he couldn't maintain his composure. He squeezed his eyes shut and felt the impish giggles run up his throat. Jimmy let his head fall, his forehead now against Thomas's shoulder, and the man himself tripping over and over again behind his eyes. He felt Thomas moving his arm and his gloved hand patting the top of his head. Somehow, this did not help.

'There, there,' Thomas cooed, 'it's hard to see a foxtrot as tragic as that, I know. You can get through it, Jimmy Kent, you're a pillar of strength.'

Choking on his laughter, Jimmy let himself remain there. Thomas radiated warmth. When he lifted his head, he found Thomas gazing down at him as if he'd seen real magic. He'd seen gazes like this before. They swung between this, the pure enchantment kind, and the sad longing ones. Both threatened to break his resolve and ask Thomas why he felt the way he did. More importantly, how could one person feel all those wildly unfaltering things that Thomas seemed to experience, for him? Surely a person would explode.

Jimmy wondered all of this without a word. It seemed kinder to indulge Thomas just for now than to say something witty or stupid like he wanted to. Instead, he smiled and stepped back so they could rearrange themselves. Thomas cleared his throat and once again took Jimmy's hand with a small, slightly guilty smile.

'Was a little bit tragic.' Jimmy muttered after a few minutes, stretching up on his toes so Thomas could hear him.

'Still better than you.'

'If sayin' it makes you feel better, Thomas, then you keep sayin' it.'

Thomas raised an eyebrow, 'I've been dancin' since before you were born.'

'Exactly! Those creaky knees are gettin' rather loud these da- Ow!'

Thomas had kicked him in the shin with feigned concern on his face.

'Sorry, what was that about me knees?'

'You're an arse.'

'I know, isn't it wonderful?'

Jimmy shook his head, 'Don't mean you're a better dancer than me though.'

'Alright,' Thomas said, halting them. He let go of Jimmy, the absence marked by an uncomfortable coldness on Jimmy's side, and held out his hand once again, 'I bet you can't spin like a lady can.'

Jimmy stared, wide eyed and frozen. His hand flew to his hair and brushed it back. Thomas smirked and waited with an open palm. Jimmy flushed hot red and suddenly became very aware of where they were and what the hell he was doing.

'Can't hack it, Jimmy?'

'Well, I mean, I-I-'

Thomas rolled his eyes, 'For Christ's sake, I'm daring you to have a twirl, not put on a dress. Your precious manly reputation will remain intact.'

Jimmy nodded sharply and stepped forward but did not take Thomas's hand. He attempted a smile. From the reaction he received, an unimpressed raised eyebrow, it wasn't too convincing.

'Might need a drink before I do somethin' like that.' he said too lightly.

Thomas dropped the hand and sighed, 'I'll leave it, I'm sorry. Just muckin' about.'

'No, Thomas, don't be silly,' he said quickly, grabbing Thomas's hand and curling Thomas's fingers around his own, 'I'm just not... I don't...'

'Doesn't matter, promise.' Thomas smiled, 'Not now, anyway.'

'What? Why?'

Thomas looked down and Jimmy followed his gaze to their linked hands. Jimmy's thumb pressed into the material of the glove covering Thomas's knuckles, their fingers locked together. For whatever reason, Jimmy didn't find himself wanting to jump away, though he let out a long groan. He didn't get the chance to think about it too much, distracted by the smug, cat-like grin stretched across Thomas's face that lit up his eyes. With his free hand, he rubbed his face in mild despair.

'Brought this on myself, didn't I?'

'I'm not complainin'.'

Jimmy snorted and met Thomas's gaze, 'Course you aren't, and if you tell a soul back at the house, I'll beat you with your glove.'

'I wouldn't expect anything less.'

'And this don't mean anything either, I'm not havin' a repeat of-'

'Jimmy?'

'Yes?'

'Shut up.'

Jimmy rolled his eyes but didn't say another word on the matter. The music changed once again and Jimmy, out of the endless goodness of his heart, allowed Thomas to lead him. Thomas did not stop smiling.

****

Thomas could be forcibly reserved at times. The more people there were, the more likely he was to get on with his work or sit in his rocking chair glaring over a newspaper, expertly timing his snarky commentary on the world around him. If it was upstairs, he always maintained a sheen of professionalism, and he was proud of this skill.  
Jimmy, hands stuffed in his jacket pockets, ambled along behind Thomas back to Downton. A befuddled smile spread over his face as he watched the older man run his fingers over every hedge and plant they passed that was high enough. Thomas walked quickly, not rushing, but with long strides. Despite the chill in the air, Thomas had hooked his own jacket in his fingers and slung it over his shoulder. Jimmy shook his head.

When they reached the house, the lights were on in the servant’s hall, meaning someone was waiting up for them. Jimmy prayed it wasn't Carson. The miserable git wouldn't approve of their adventure even if he didn't know what they'd been up to.

Thomas glanced over his shoulder at Jimmy as he entered the hall, eyes twinkling. Jimmy snorted and took off his hat.

'Unusual for you to be out so late, Mr Barrow.'

Jimmy swung around the door frame in time to see Mrs Hughes rising from a chair by the fire. He narrowed his eyes. It was Thomas's rocking chair she'd been sitting at.  
Perhaps not noticing, or perhaps mad, Thomas merely nodded to her and continued to smile.

'Evenin', Mrs Hughes.' Thomas replied, 'Got to live a little sometimes, don't we?'

Mrs Hughes tilted her head to one side and paused as she took him in. Jimmy was better at hiding it, but clearly, she was thinking the same thoughts he'd been for the last few hours. She glanced at Jimmy and he shrugged. Thinking better of enquiring more, she said goodnight, leaving them in relative silence.

'God, I could just...'

Jimmy looked around as Thomas spoke, letting the words trail off. He was gazing at Jimmy, the lamps illuminating a soft smile, head tilted. The jacket he'd been holding now lay on the back of a chair, his hands by his sides. Jimmy gulped as the moment crawled on. The meaning of whatever it was that crackled in the air between them escaped him, though Jimmy couldn't ignore that he wasn't breathing evenly.

Thomas approached him and he still didn't know why. Silently, Thomas raised his pale hands to either side of Jimmy's jaw. Jimmy's eyes widened.

'What're you-'

Before Jimmy could finish, Thomas had closed his eyes and brushed the top of his head with a kiss. Still, Jimmy could not move, staring as the man looked down at him warmly. Thomas's hands moved down to his shoulders.

'Thank you for tonight, Jimmy. Thank you.' he murmured.

Jimmy knew his face was turning a perfect shade of strawberry as Thomas let go and there was nothing he could do to hide. He coughed and cleared his throat, summoning what he hoped was a light-hearted grin onto his face. He stuffed his hands back in his pockets and nodded once.

'You're uh... You're welcome.' he said hoarsely.

Thomas wandered around the table as if he were floating. He looked to Jimmy again, running his gloved hand and slender fingers through his hair, still fallen over his brow. Jimmy's breath stuttered in his lungs, mind whirring like a malfunctioning engine, unable to process what had just happened.

'You want nightcap?' Thomas asked.

Jimmy raised his hand, 'I'm alright.'

'Water? Tea?'

'Ooh, yeah, cup of tea, please.'

Thomas winked and headed for the kitchen. Dumbfounded, Jimmy sat at his usual seat at the table and stared after him. It seemed Thomas had stopped trying to manage his flirtations, yet they were still joking like they always did. Jimmy wasn't sure, but it made him nervous. Just nervous. That's what he called the fluttering in his stomach and the sensation he felt in his cheeks, like a couple of sparklers burning, every time Thomas had danced close to him, or looked at him a certain way. He drummed his fingers in the table and waited.

Yawning, Jimmy forced his eyes up from the table as Thomas came back in holding two mugs. He handed one to Jimmy and plonked himself heavily on the chair beside him, sighing as he did. He even grinned as he sipped his tea, unaware that Jimmy was watching him. Jimmy nearly laughed as he drank his tea, drawing Thomas's attention.

'You alright?'

'I don't think ever seen you like this.' Jimmy said, setting his mug down.

Thomas frowned, 'Like what?'

'So... So...' Jimmy stammered, searching for the words in Thomas's curious face, 'Free. I've not seen you smile so much since the fair last year.'

'Ah.'

Sensing a shift in the atmosphere, Jimmy nudged Thomas's shoulder with his own.

'Oi, don't get all moody and mysterious now, we're having a good night!'

'Moody and mysterious?' Thomas said dryly, 'Crikey.'

'Oh, shut up, you know exactly what I mean- you get all brooding like one of those blokes in them silly novels you like.'

Thomas's determination broke and he grinned like a boy half his age, 'Emily Brontё is rolling in her grave.'

'Who?'

'Good God, I wonder about you sometimes.'

They laughed, leaning into each other. Jimmy cupped his hands around the hot mug, skin prickling pleasantly as warmth returned to him. Their shoulders pressed against the other and neither man made an effort to move away. It was nice, Jimmy decided, to have someone warm close to him after the frigid walk back.

His gaze drifted down to the table. Their hands lay inches apart, Jimmy's wrapped around his mug and Thomas's gloved hand flat on the surface. Jimmy shuffled forward in his seat to get a better look at the beige material. On the back of his hand, it was pristine, but the edges where the material met his fingers were darkened from use. Only two fingers were covered. Jimmy supposed there was scarring there, or maybe they had been broken, Thomas would never say. He frowned to himself. He'd gotten so used to seeing the glove and Thomas with it that he'd never asked about the injury.

Jimmy reached out and placed his hand next to Thomas's, his skin pressed beside the coarse material. Thomas's glanced him as Jimmy compared the two, noting Thomas had longer fingers and black hair creeping out from under his sleeve, but that they were equally as calloused at the tips of their fingers.

'I'll show you.' Thomas said.

Blinking hard, Jimmy snatched his hand away and sat up. Thomas pushed his sleeves up to his elbows and began to ease the glove off. Jimmy watched mesmerised as Thomas winced, his lips pursed, and wondered why he wasn't telling him to stop if it caused him pain.

Thomas flexed his fingers, rested his hand palm up on the table. Jimmy shuffled his chair nearer to get a better look. His lips parted. In the middle, Thomas's skin stretched tightly in an uneven circle, encompassed by rocks and valleys of scar tissue. He was correct too; as if the skin were melted, more scarring wound up his ring finger and pinky.

'I were a medic in the war.' Thomas begun quietly.

Jimmy nodded. This part he knew. His gaze roved over Thomas's palm.

'I'd been out there for two years, I think, and I was scared. A man died next to me that day. I've only been scared like that twice in my life.'

'When was the other time?'

'I think you know.'

Images of Thomas in his bedroom, eyes wide and glistening, himself pushing Thomas away from him, Alfred at the door, rose to the surface. Jimmy shivered and nodded again. He didn't want to relive any more of that night than he had to.

'Anyway,' Thomas continued, 'I was terrified I was going to do something... irreversible. Don't know what. One night, it was quiet, nearly silent, no shooting, no bombs. I had a lighter,' he murmured, lifting his hand from the table so only his elbow rested there, 'and I held my hand up without lookin', and I waited. They shot me. I came home.'

Jimmy bit down on the fleshy insides of his mouth and pondered the story. He reached out and pressed his index and middle finger to the centre of the wound. Thomas didn’t t move and Jimmy did not dare look at his eyes. His fingers moved to the ridges surrounding the exit wound, the bumps and plateaus like pebbles on a beach. He moved his fingers to the flat middle again, the shinier, thinner skin, pressing gently.

'Through here?'

Thomas nodded. His fingers moved back to the thick scarring around the outside. He narrowed his eyes.

'Did it break anything?'

'Nearly shattered my hand.' Thomas said in a volume just above a whisper.

Completing the circle, Jimmy finally forced himself to look at Thomas's face and found shame. Thomas grimaced, his eyes far from playful, but full of storms.

'I know I should've stayed out there and died like the others.' Thomas murmured, 'I know what I did was weak.'

'No, that's not right,' Jimmy replied immediately, 'because I wouldn't have you here if you hadn't done that, would I?'

Jimmy had dropped his hand down to the table already, but now Thomas did the same and stared at him. Jimmy remained utterly still, as if moving would shatter the world itself. All he could hear was the sound of their breaths in the cool air. Thomas's eyes, still piercing behind pieces of his hair, scanned his face. Jimmy's pulse quickened.  
Thomas's scarred hand cupped his jaw and before Jimmy could comprehend that alone, he was being kissed. He closed his eyes and breathed in sharply as Thomas surged forward, his teeth grazing his bottom lip, replaced quickly by a dewy, ashy softness that didn't make sense. That was it though, Jimmy thought distantly. He tasted like bitter tea, like sugar and sleep. He tasted like the sharpest words he'd ever spoken and a slow, smoking fire.

Thomas pulled away, but not far enough for Jimmy to lose the feeling of warm breathing on his nose. He didn't move his hand from Jimmy's jaw either. Jimmy opened his eyes, meeting Thomas's brightened grey ones. His heartbeat refused to slow. Blood rushed to his face. He could hardly form a coherent thought.

'I love you.' Thomas breathed, 'I love you and... And I wanted you to hear it.'

His chest grew hotter and his skin tingled. His eyes, which had been staring at the table, slowly turned to look at Thomas. The more he stared, or maybe it was gazing, and the more he rummaged around his brain for a name to attach to this sensation whirling like a hurricane inside him, the less about it he understood.

'Do that again.' he whispered.

'What?'

Thomas sounded too shocked. Jimmy didn't like that, though he didn't know why. He licked his lips.

'Do what you... Do that again.' he repeated hoarsely.

When Thomas kissed him this time, he moved his hand down to his shoulder, skimming over Jimmy's neck. Thomas moved gently, no desperate graze of teeth, taking Jimmy's bottom lip, then the corner of this mouth, as gradually as if he were reading a book. Meanwhile, Jimmy felt himself plummet and fly.

He grabbed the back of Thomas head and forced them closer. His heart leapt. Thomas rose, straightening, his hands snaking around Jimmy’s waist while Jimmy threw his free arm around Thomas's neck. He let his fingers curl into Thomas's hair and, without intending to, drew nearer and nearer, moving away from the chair, arching over him as if he needed Thomas just to breathe.

Breathing. He'd forgotten about that. With a thump, he broke away and fell back into the chair, breathing hard and fast. One hand landed on his thigh and the other on the table. He stared ahead of him, seeing nothing except the shadowy hallway behind Thomas head. Jimmy blinked and his gaze snapped to Thomas. He blinked again. His vision was blurring, why was his vision blurring like this? Swiping a fist under his eyes, he realised tears were falling. Thomas latched onto his arm. The chair screeched as he brought it closer. Jimmy felt his stomach drop. He choked and suddenly it wasn't just tears. His throat constricted and a sob broke out of him. Jimmy gritted his teeth, gripping Thomas's arm.

'I'm sorry, was... Is this too much? Jimmy?' Thomas said, his voice cracking with concern.

Jimmy managed to shake his head, but he couldn't force the words out. Swearing silently, he leapt out of his chair, urging himself to run off. His nails scraped against his scalp as he dragged a hand through his hair and realised he couldn't even do that. He distantly registered Thomas standing too. His head bowed. Screwing his eyes shut, he hissed at the pain in his chest as the fear took hold.

'I think I should leave.' Thomas mumbled.

'Please don't.'

Jimmy saw his hand dart out to Thomas's, felt his scars under his palm, gripping as if he might fall.

'Don't go, please.' he whispered.

He'd expected Thomas to try to leave, yet he remained as permanent as the flagstones beneath their feet.

'Jimmy, you make me so, so happy, and I love you...'

Jimmy forced himself to look up and found Thomas smiling sadly, with tear tracks decorating his skin. Another sob stumbled through him at the sight of it and he grabbed Thomas's other hand. Thomas hesitated before speaking again. Jimmy felt his grip on his hands tightened.

'... but, if I'm scaring you… If this is too much,' Thomas croaked, 'I'll stop. I promise.'

As soon as the words left Thomas's mouth, Jimmy let go of his hands. His own quivered. He his breath shook too, like his lungs were made of paper. He licked his lips, wiped his eyes with the back of his hand and drew in a shuddering breath. Pull yourself together, he told himself. It was like someone had a heavy boot pushing down on his sternum, crushing every breath with unrelenting force. His eyesight blurred. He whimpered, fingers curling into fists.

‘So… so I’m like you.’ Jimmy whispered, staring at the table.

‘Not necessarily. There’s more people in this world than you can imagine.’

Jimmy forced his gaze up and said, shaking, ‘But this is wrong, isn’t it? I’m wrong, I’m a sin, I-’

Sin. Jimmy’s stomach dropped as tears spilled from his eyes. Sobs wracked his body, crashing like a violent storm, caving in his world. He raised his fists to his temples and pressed down until it burned.

‘I could- we could go to prison!’ he gasped and met Thomas’ eyes, ‘They’ll take you away!’

Thomas stepped towards him, but Jimmy jumped back and yelped as if he’d been bitten.

‘No, no, they’ll hurt you an’ take you an’,’ Jimmy hiccupped, ‘it’s all my fault. I’m just… I’m foul.’

‘You fuckin’ listen to me, alright?’

Hands grabbed his shoulders. Jimmy stared into Thomas’ face. If Jimmy had been shaking with pure, unfiltered fear, then Thomas body shook as though he was barely restraining himself. Thomas’ hands flitted to his face, cupping his jaw, leaving Jimmy unable to look anywhere else. Darkened grey eyes, illuminated with faint lamplight, bore into his.

‘We are not foul.’

Jimmy’s knees threatened to give out as Thomas’ voice wavered and tears pooled in his eyes. Leaning down to Jimmy so their faces were inches apart, Thomas held Jimmy steady.  
‘We are… not foul. D’you hear me?’ Thomas choked out through the tears that ran down his lip, ‘You are perfect exactly the way you are and there is nothin’ wrong with us.’

He didn’t know how to ask why Thomas was saying all of this or what had happened to him that was making him say it. There were no words to absorb the sadness and the anger he could feel in Thomas’ hands and see in his shoulders, nor anything remotely competent enough to take it from him, transfer it into himself. Jimmy ran his tongue over his bottom lip as tears spilled from his eyes. Even through the watery veil, Thomas stood so clear.

‘Thomas?’

‘We aren’t foul, Jimmy.’

‘I’m sorry, I’m just not… I’m not like you, I’m not brave. This is… terrifyin’.’ Jimmy muttered.

Thomas shook his head, took Jimmy’s face in his hands and peppered fleeting kisses along his jaw, his neck, his cheeks. If he hadn’t still been in shock and petrified, Jimmy would have burst out laughing. Thomas’ kisses trailed to the corner of his mouth, at which point he pulled away and focused on Jimmy’s eyes. Jimmy gulped.

‘Of course you’re bloody scared, my beautiful, beautiful, darling boy, of course you are.’ Thomas said adamantly, his hands sliding down to either side of Jimmy’s neck, ‘There’s nothin’ to be sorry for, this is all new to you. I’m scared too.’

‘Is that really what I am to you?’

Thomas nodded once, firmly.

‘Absolutely.’

Jimmy knew he wasn’t brave and that his cockiness was mostly a front. He thought back to their dance, their secret dance, right under the noses of people and laws who would steal Thomas away from him. He’d never felt so free. Jimmy, biting the inside of his mouth until it pinched, reached up and clasped Thomas’ right hand in his. A grin crept across Thomas’ face. Jimmy moved Thomas’ hand from his neck and held it in front of his chest. Their fingers linked.

‘Alright then,’ Jimmy asserted, ‘if that’s true – ʼ

‘It is. It always has been.’

Jimmy smiled up at Thomas as tears dried on their faces.

‘That would mean you’re mine too.’

‘If you want me to be.’ Thomas replied in a low voice.

Slowly, Jimmy rose on his toes, his gaze sinking to Thomas’ mouth.

‘I want to be brave for you, Thomas.’

Thomas tightened his grip on Jimmy’s hand, closed his eyes, and said in his last breath before a kiss; ‘You already are.’


End file.
